Upon Color he chanced
In thirteenth year of sightless sojourn.
A brook, boundless in Blue, knelt before him,
Nevermore would it know the wor(l)d alone.
Together they traveled, ever westwards,
Ever swiftly, ever outracing
That trimmed-in-gold prophet.
Untold horizons they fashioned,
Lest reckless they topple
off creation still-edgebound. First mountain
they freed, whispered to stone
the seven shades of a secret.
They wait yet today
In a cave marked by no map,
Asking only for a color untold.